


Make Me Feel Alive Again

by squibli



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Dissociation, Hand Jobs, Knock Knock, M/M, Mental Instability, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Pre-Uprising, Self-Harm, before he switches to wine like a classy alcoholic, deviates maybe like 4 inches from canon, its the precursors, just let the gays be happy, more lab sex, newt goes crazy, newt has stockholm syndrome maybe, some ghost drift, some medical terminology sprinkled in here, the beginning of newt's drinking problem, the precursors whisper sweet nothings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 18:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15394491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squibli/pseuds/squibli
Summary: The one where Newt starts to realize he has a problem with his head, and then Hermann gets mad.





	Make Me Feel Alive Again

**Author's Note:**

> In this instance Hermann is a smart cookie that eventually figures out Newt's been brain-jacked by aliens. Don't quote me on the timeline here, I have no idea when Newt actually started losing it after they closed the Breach. But it made for a good story.

**JUST WORK WITH US, HELP US**

**WE’LL GIVE YOU MORE THAN YOU COULD EVER DREAM OF**  

_leave me alone_

**TAKE THAT OFFER FROM SHAO**

_I don’t want to leave the PPDC, Alice, fuck off_

**YOU ALWAYS WANTED FAME**

**STATUS**

**POWER**

not like this, not your way

**IT WILL BE OUR WAY**

no

**HERMANN GOES FIRST, HE’S SUCH A FUCKING PROBLEM**

—

Newt woke violently, the Precursors’ rattling breath echoing in his ears. _God, not again, please._ Bile rose hot and acidic in his throat. He rolled onto his side, arms tangled in the covers. Panicked, Newt slid off the side of the bed in a pocket of cream sheets, enveloping him like a cocoon, pulsing with the heartbeat of the hivemind. He got an arm free and wiggled the top half of his body out, sliding the last few inches to the floor.

“Jesus Christ…” _It’s just a nightmare, it’s fine, everything’s fine._

He rolled out of the loose bundle, _not unlike how the kaiju themselves are born, bursting from their birth sacs,_ and lay on his side on the cool hardwood. Newt took in great gasps of air, never seeming to get enough in one breath. His lungs ached, vision swimming in grey static. His heart thumped in a strange double rhythm, one for himself and one for the Precursors. Newt was afraid. He blinked rapidly to try and clear the haze and caught several pairs of blue eyes staring at him out of the darkness underneath Hermann’s bed.  
  
His breath hitched in his throat. “Hermann...” he rasped, nothing more than a breathy whisper coming out.

_Hermann there is shit under your bed so help me God wake the fuck up._

Newt tried to reach out and find him in the drift but there was nothing, no radar blip to tell him he was connected to anything other than himself _and the hivemind_ and that was almost as distressing as the eyes. _They know who I am. Did they cut me off from him?_

Hermann slept on, peacefully, his pale shoulder rising out of the sheets. Newt’s arms trembled as he pushed himself off the floor, sliding back until his shoulders hit the wall, the few pictures Hermann had bothered to hang up rattling in their frames. The eyes followed him closely. Newt wrapped his arms around his knees and held his breath, praying they would stay put if they couldn’t hear him. The blue pinpricks blinked out one by one until Newt was staring into nothing.  
  
The hivemind’s thrumming pulse beat an uncomfortable staccato against Newt’s ribs. He thought his heart might explode. _And then what would Hermann think, if he woke up and saw this mess on the other side of the bed?_ Newt, blown heart and all, slumped against his bedroom wall in a puddle of kaiju blood, because he was quite sure at this point if he bled it wouldn’t come out the color it was supposed to.

The spartan walls of Hermann’s bedroom vibrated slightly, reminding Newt of the mirages people see in the desert as heat rises off the sands. Everything felt so claustrophobic. Newt’s vision cycled between myopia and hyperopia and the thought of putting on his glasses to correct it made him sick.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hermann?” His hoarse voice rose in panic. No response. 

His bright ink crawled over his skin, breathing with life on his arms, his chest, creeping over his shoulders. The hivemind gave them sentience and Newt could feel their intelligence, apparent in their grabbing arms and snapping jaws. He itched at his body with no success. He scrubbed his face with shaking hands, covering his mouth to stifle a harsh sob. Tears streamed down his face. And he couldn’t even be bothered with how not punk rock it all was, crying like a bitch because of some nightmares. The old Newton Geiszler would never.

_What the fuck have I done?_

It had been seven months since the drift. _And two weeks, five days, one hour._ Newt had been sharing his brain with something else for seven months, and he still didn’t have the heart to tell Hermann. He’d been sleeping with him since they closed the breach, and even Hermann’s doting affection every night couldn’t prompt him to say anything. His hubris would be the end of him, he realized. Hermann was still safe. He had only drifted once and had had the company of Newt’s presence to lighten the exposure to the hivemind. But they had Newt’s number, all right. He had felt them watching him, breathing with him, needling him, right after the first time. _Fuck Pentecost. Fuck the world, fuck these kaiju. Stacker gave me a death sentence when he said do it again._

Hermann let out a little wheezy snore above him.

Newt had no doubt the Precursors would drop him as soon as he was no longer useful to them. He could always hear their whispers and their commands that he tried to ignore. They flexed his fingers for him when he wasn’t paying attention. He was afraid these nightmares would eventually lead to sleepwalking. He was more than concerned for Hermann’s safety, because they had made it painfully clear they didn’t like him. It started slowly, but Newt had discovered his headaches were markedly worse in Hermann’s company. And now he was disconnected from him.

Newt reached over to the nightstand and used it to steady himself as he crawled to the bed and leaned over, gently shaking Hermann’s shoulder. “Herms. Please man, wake up.”  
  
Hermann slowly rolled onto his back, slipping down into the warmth of the bedding. He put out a hand for his glasses and pushed them up his nose, one side slightly askew. He didn’t bother turning on the bedside lamp.  
  
“What is it, Newt?”  
  
Newt just took his wrist and pulled, coaxing him to turn the other way. His lip shook and he hiccuped, not trusting himself to say anything. A muscle worked in his jaw. _Goddamn Hermann, just please realize there’s something not right with me._ Hermann pushed himself up onto one arm and looked rather confusedly at his lab partner. Newt could see himself reflected in his glasses, face pale, his eyes wet, tear marks tracking down his cheeks. His nose was bleeding again.  
  
Hermann immediately swept the covers back and pulled Newt into bed, and Newt went willingly, desperately aching for human touch that wasn’t tainted by the hivemind. Hermann wrapped the blankets around him and tucked Newt’s head under his chin. Newt swallowed down another sob and buried his face in Hermann’s chest. _Sorry about the nosebleed._ He was cold, perpetually cold, and Hermann was so very warm, and that was all that mattered. Newt could feel the Precursors’ revulsion peaking like the crest of a very disgusted wave rising in the back of his head. _Jesus Hermann, why can’t I find you in the drift anymore? Where did you go?_

“Was it another nightmare?”  
  
Newt shook his head. It felt like there was viscous liquid sloshing around where his brain should be. “I don’t know, honestly.”

“Perhaps you should see a doctor in the morning, Newton. It couldn’t hurt.” His tone was gentle, not patronizing. Though Newt had a feeling that under less daunting circumstances, Hermann would have indeed said “I told you so.”  
  
“I can’t see a doctor about this. Doctors don’t know what happens when you drift with kaiju.” _We’re the only ones Hermann. You and me. Fucking lab rats._ “We opened that connection, crossed that damn bridge. Can’t take it back now. We just have to face it Herms, we’re riding the train to Fuckville.”

Hermann threaded his fingers through Newt’s hair, tapping the pads against his scalp in a persistent rhythm. Hermann always knew how to calm him down. “I still have nightmares, too. I thought, maybe . . .” _Maybe they’d stop eventually, I know. Hasn’t happened yet, has it?_ He knew Hermann wasn’t seeing what he was seeing. He wasn’t dreaming about the Precursors plotting, always plotting, etching their nefarious schemes into Newt’s subconscious.

  _… kaiju blood and blood and so much blood and explosions and death everywhere rotting atmosphere Alice so many innocents everywhere dark Hermann where is Hermann keep him safe please don’t take him too…_

“Herm?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Hermann’s fingers stilled.

_They’ll keep coming back. Every night, and even during the days too. I don’t know how long I can do this._

Hermann was quiet for a minute. Newt feared he’d write him off as insane. And he really couldn’t find it in himself to blame Hermann, if that was what he wanted to believe. Newt realized it was getting harder to believe himself.  
  
“Then I guess we’ll have to go one day a time.”

——————————————

He hadn’t really gotten back to sleep. Everytime he got close, he was jolted awake by his racing heart and a simultaneous rush of panic. _Opening the adrenaline floodgates. Increased blood pressure. Digestion grinds to a halt._ Hermann held him close, eventually falling asleep himself, leaving Newt to try and blend his partner’s even breathing with the loud buzz of the air circulation system that snaked through the Dome.

He’d half-heartedly considered the bottle of whiskey he’d stashed in the kitchenette in his quarters. Newt kept telling himself it was just for the nights he couldn’t get to sleep, but those nights were becoming more frequent. That bottle was almost gone.

_I’ll have to get another from Tendo. God, I hope he isn’t out._

Getting dressed had been a trip; Hermann had pretty much buttoned his shirt for him and done up his tie, leaving it loose like he knew Newt preferred. Newt had remained in the pool of sheets, listless and exhausted, hands gripping the edge of the bed too tight. He’d pushed his glasses away when Hermann tried to hand them to him, earning a suspicious narrow-eyed stare. Hermann had rolled his shirt sleeves up, and Newt fought the urge to tug them back down to cover the monsters from the night before. Even now, hours later, he was still hyper-vigilant, and he expected to see eyes staring at him from every shadowy place around the lab.  
  
Newt sat hunched over his work table, scalpel in hand. It was too quiet. Newt’s tinnitus was humming loud in his ears. Looking down at the ragged remains of a kaiju skull he felt sick, knowing sooner or later he’d have to cut into it, lest Hermann become suspicious at his lack of activity. And he knew Hermann paid attention, if Newt was particularly loud or quiet on any given day. Usually it gave him a sense of peace, knowing someone was attuned to his bipolar attitudes and knew him _literally_ inside and out. Now, not so much.

_Hermann buddy, just ignore me, okay? Just focus on your stupid math._

A kaiju flashback tore through his consciousness, _Otachi_ , and Newt heard the phantom screams of innocent bystanders as she wove her way through Hong Kong, methodically searching for him, seeking him out because he knew her, and they all knew him, and he’d never be safe again. His stomach lurched. _More palpitations_ . His breath caught in his throat. Newt coughed hastily to hide his panic and swallowed bile.  
  
He twirled the scalpel in his fingers and snuck a glance over his shoulder at Hermann. As usual, he was three rungs high on his ladder, scribbling furiously at his chalkboard, mumbling formulas that Newt didn’t understand. He turned to look at Newt, smiling deviously, whispering, “They’ll have no choice but to increase our budget now, Newton. They can’t disagree with this new set of Breach data. We’ll be set for years!” He winked and went back to his work, scraping the chalk against the board, his lips set in a haughty smirk.

Newt nodded and gave an empty smile to humor him, and turned back to his specimen. He cleared his throat and bent down again. _I’m sorry little guy._ Newt frowned. _Where the fuck did that come from?_ His view of the world slid briefly into kaleidoscopic color and Newt blinked quickly, resetting the lab to its yellowish color palette.

The tissue looked cold and gray, lifeless. Unfeeling, no longer tethered to its brethren. _I got a direct line to your parents, I’ll call ‘em right up and tell them how interesting you were._

He found it harder and harder to lift his hand to make the first cut. It felt like if he cut into that tissue, he’d really just be cutting into himself. Resolved to make some sort of progress that could be seen, Newt took the scalpel in both hands and made the first slice, straight down over a facial bone, where the cheek would have been on a human.

**YOU STUPID FUCK**

The pain immediately became overwhelming, the sensation of the blade carving into his own face startling Newt so badly he threw the scalpel down and pushed back with his feet, rolling his chair across the tape line and into Hermann’s area. He hit a cable running along the floor and was thrown off.

Hermann was down the ladder in an instant. “What the hell has gotten into you?” His tone was at first stern, until he took in Newt’s frantic state. He tapped his cane on the floor and cleared his throat. “Is this about the nightmares?”  
  
Newt curled into the fetal position on the dirty lab floor. His heart beat wildly and the hivemind shared the sentiment. They were not pleased. Newt dug his fingers into his cheeks. “You need to check my face, Herm.” _What if it’s not right? What if it’s blue? Oh fuck, he’s gonna find out I’m not what he thinks I am anymore._

“Why?”  
  
“Don’t fucking argue, Jesus, just make sure there’s nothing there.”  
  
He bent down and pulled Newt’s hands away from his face.  
  
“I don’t see anything. Your face is fine, Newton.” He paused, pursed his lips. “Your glasses are filthy, though.”  
  
Newt touched his cheekbones like they’d break if he pressed any harder. “I don’t know if I can make it through the day, man. I feel like shit.”  
  
Hermann scoffed. “Well, you honestly look like shit.”  
  
Newt stared up at him. Not really seeing him, just looking in his general direction. He felt strange. Like his head wasn’t connected, like the tendons tethering it to the rest of his body had been severed. His fingers felt like they were full of glass shards. Newt brought his hands up to his face and fought to focus his eyes on his fingertips. Everything was at once too blurry and too sharp - the edges were too clear and the colors _too fucking bright_ blurred together.  The side of him that was touching the lab floor didn’t feel like it was touching anything. _Dissociation, this is what dissociation feels like. Why me?_ Waves of dizziness and accompanying nausea rolled over him, and Newt looked at Hermann, helpless, pleading with his eyes because his mouth couldn’t form the words anymore. Hermann’s face fell, his look of skepticism turning into despair.

_I can’t stop what’s happening. God Hermann, just love what’s left of me._

Hermann tossed his cane aside and sunk to his knees, scooping Newt into his arms. Newt immediately latched on, sinking his hands into Hermann’s many warm layers. Hermann held him tightly as Newt took in great shuddering breaths, wetting the shoulder of his sweater with angry tears.  
  
“Why did we have to do it Hermann?! Why couldn’t Pentecost send somebody else?”  
  
“Because nobody else knew what they were doing. You were the only one who took the initiative to try and fix things, to really save the world.” Hermann raked his nails gently over Newt’s back. Soothing. **WHY DOES HE KEEP TOUCHING YOU** “We saved everyone, Newton. You should be proud.”  
  
_How the hell can I be proud when everything’s gone so fucking wrong? I’m probably dying for all I know._

Hermann maneuvered his bad leg out of the way and pulled Newt into a sitting position, his legs wrapped around Hermann’s hips, Hermann’s legs bracketing him on both sides. He swayed unsteadily in Hermann’s lap. _Filthy floor, always filthy. Too much blood and grime, Hermann, you never let me off the hook for this goddamn floor._ His body ached, like somebody had beaten him repeatedly with a sledgehammer, and his head pounded. _Like being congested with kaiju. Kaiju flu. Kaiju allergies._

_Christ Hermann, just fucking talk to me. Tell me it’s gonna be okay even though I know and you know and probably everyone else knows it won’t._

**GET RID OF HIM**

**HE’S GETTING IN YOUR WAY**

_Alice would you shut the fuck up_

**GETTING IN OUR WAY**

_That’s not true_

**WE’LL BE BETTER OFF WITHOUT HIM**

_Hermann’s all I have left_

**HE IS WEAK**

_You can’t take him away from me_

Newt felt like he was bound in plastic wrap. His limbs felt numb but they twitched of their own accord, his fingers curling in on themselves to touch his palms. He slumped forward, pressing his cheek against Hermann’s.  
  
Hermann gently took Newt’s face in his hands and turned it back and forth to study it, concern spreading deeper into his frown lines. “Are you quite sure you’re alright? You do look rather pale.” His long fingers made a delicate search of Newt’s features, ghosting lightly over his cheekbones, his forehead _is there a term for kaiju fever?_ , pulling down on his bottom eyelids to check his pupils, which Newt knew were blown all to hell, especially when Hermann rested his thumb on Newt’s bottom lip and swiped down, checking his gums for paleness. Anemia.  
  
_Man, you gotta stop that shit, they’re getting angry._ But he knew Hermann couldn’t hear him in the drift anymore, and it wasn’t like he _really_ wanted him to stop anyway.

**IF YOU DON’T MAKE HIM STOP WE WILL**

_Alice, Jesus Christ take a fucking chill pill_

Newt made a split-second decision based on very little evidence and ran on the waning faith that he wasn’t wrong. **THIS IS A BAD DECISION** “Save me,” he breathed, closing the distance between them and kissing Hermann desperately, praying Hermann could feel the despondency behind it. Hermann was his only hope. _I need you back inside my head, man, you can keep me safe._

Newt brought his hands up under Hermann’s jaw, using his bone structure to anchor him in the present, to be a grounding force against the insistent tapping and picking in his brain. He was always a slut for anatomy. _206 bones in your skeleton, Herms, but your mandible was always my favorite._  
  
**CRUSH HIS WINDPIPE**

 **ELIMINATE THE THREAT HE POSES**  
  
Newt’s fingers tightened minutely on Hermann’s jaw, and Hermann moaned softly, unaware of the danger. _God Hermann, I’m so fucking sorry, you don’t even know what’s happening._ Newt’s kisses had become more morose. He was working against the Precursors, fighting for just enough control to do this right. To not kill this wonderful innocent man that Newt honestly didn’t deserve. He settled his shaky hands on Hermann’s shoulders instead, where the impulse was easier to ignore. The hivemind’s anger still buzzed underneath his skin.  
  
Hermann slid his hands down over Newt’s throat, pausing to feel the pulse beating there _he’s counting, he’ll know something’s up_ before dropping them to Newt’s shoulders. For all the mathematician in him, Hermann had a more than decent grasp on human biology and Newt had begun to wonder if Hermann was glossing over these inconsistencies on purpose, for Newt’s benefit. _How much does he already know?_  
  
He moved with determination, easily undoing the knot on Newt’s tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Hermann pushed it down his shoulders, abruptly stopping when he saw the numerous inflamed scratches _don’t ask questions_ criss-crossing the kaiju on Newt’s torso. Hermann audibly swallowed and passed his hands over them, a cursory investigation on his part, and Newt winced.  
  
“How long has this been happening?”  
  
Newt shook his head and grabbed harshly at his partner’s sweater. _Fucking argyle, always._ “It isn’t important. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, teeth catching Hermann’s bottom lip. “I just need you right now.” _More than you’ll ever fucking know._  
  
Hermann let it go, muttering a “Later, perhaps,” and let his hands fall to Newt’s hips, thumbs dipping underneath his jeans, digging against the bone. _He’s gonna know I lost weight._ Newt tipped forward, searching for friction. They were slotted together, chest to chest, and Newt’s only thought was _more, God, fucking more_ , and nothing seemed to be enough. He needed this piece of Hermann, his stubborn and honest humanity a shocking contradiction to what Newt had been unwillingly succumbing to.

He felt himself slipping, the room around him painted in a visual spectrum that wasn’t his own and a brief rush of vertigo overtook him, sending him backwards onto the lab floor. _Dirty floor Hermann, why are you letting me do this? Why are_ you _doing this?_ Hermann, hands still buried in Newt’s jeans, followed him down and pressed himself closer, tighter, until there was no space left between them from neck to thigh. Newt blanked, numbly registered Hermann’s body heat against his feverish skin. He felt delirious, his body heavy. The hivemind was busily shorting out different parts of his brain. _One foot in the Anteverse and one foot way too deep in the grave._

Newt’s hands traveled of their own accord, slipping under the sweater and untucking Hermann’s crisply pressed shirt from his pants and dragging the layers up over his back. Hermann lifted himself just enough to get them over his head, then settled back down, lips against Newt’s neck as his fingers deftly wove themselves into his hair. Newt could feel him murmuring something into his skin, but couldn’t register anything he was saying. _They don’t want me to hear it, Hermann, just say it louder. Please._

He felt the beginnings of the ghost drift spark up, distantly, like looking through dirty glass. Hermann was there somewhere. The Precursors responded in kind, shutting down his consciousness and leaving Newt essentially adrift in the dark ocean of his body.

 _Don’t leave me, Newton. Don’t go wherever it is that you disappear to, just stay with me._  

It was like somebody was repeatedly turning a lamp on and off. Newt was remotely aware that he was rutting like a horny teenager, and that Hermann didn’t seem to mind, his fingers sliding harshly over the kaiju on Newt’s chest. He checked out and then back in, consciousness snapping like a rubber band, laid out skin to skin on the cold lab floor, Hermann’s breathy moans and Newt’s high pitched whines sounding too loud in the quiet room. He could barely feel the ghost of Hermann’s breath against his neck. _Talk about an out of body experience._ Newt was sequestered in the back of his head, cognizance rather hazy.  
  
_So this is how it’s gonna be? You’re gonna let me have this, but just half-assed? Fuck all of you._

The Precursors didn’t want intruders in the space they had carefully constructed for themselves. They were like the jealous possessive lovers Newt had accidentally courted at a distance, mistaking obsession for love, and now they were hypothetically blowing up his phone every time they caught him with someone else. Newt was banking on Hermann’s tenacity for love. The hivemind was making this as unpleasant as possible by virtually unplugging him from the experience, but Newt could feel Hermann beginning to catch on.

His fingers scratched bluntly over Newt’s chest, dragging over the marks Newt had put there himself. “Just let me do the work,” Hermann said, sliding his hand down, undoing the button on Newt’s jeans. Newt lifted his head up as far as he could, just barely making out the graceful curve of Hermann’s pale back and the beginning of his tattoo _stupid Pi loving motherfucker_ on the slope of his hip.

 _Language, Newton_.

Newt laid his head back down, the effort of keeping it held up exhausting him. He felt like he’d smoked too much of Hermann’s medicinal pot _like that one time I slept for four days_ and had gone past the point of no return, left to wait out the high uncomfortably, living in a fugue state the whole time. The insulated piping against the lab ceiling pitched and rolled, sliding into different colors and indistinct shapes. His skull felt too tight.

He could feel Hermann brushing the edges of his mind, could feel Hermann’s pleasure cutting in and out in his head like radio static. He wanted to say something, to let him know he was still there, but he couldn’t make language work right and visualizing the words was worse, everything jumbled together in a dyslexic mess. A choked moan slipped out and he closed his eyes.

_Your brain looks like the same state of disorder that you keep your side of the lab in, Newt, good God._

Hermann was overriding the Precursors, and Newt was _so fucking glad_ that he couldn’t hear them anymore, the pure essence of Hermann Gottlieb _all that bullshit mental math and secret kinky shit_ permeating through the drift and washing out the hivemind, a little at a time.

All at once he felt the warmth spark in his spine, his numb hands grasping for purchase on Hermann’s neck, sliding down over the knobby base of his neck and his cervical vertebrae. Tactile sense came and went. Newt was trying to catch more than a few seconds here and there, feeling Hermann’s soft lips on his shoulder in one instant, then the hot weight of Hermann’s cock heavy against his in the next.

“Why didn’t you _fucking_ tell me,” Hermann hissed, _and holy fuck, that’s hot, I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder_ , his free hand coming up to press against Newt’s jaw, fingers digging in a little too hard. Newt could feel the blunt pads of his fingertips like moth wings against his skin. “I could have helped you. What good did you think you were doing?” He punctuated his sentences by rocking his hips down, pinning Newt against the floor.

_Don’t jerk me off and put me down at the same time, Herms, that shit’s rude._

_Then don’t expect a phone call and dinner after this._

Hermann slid his hand behind Newt’s head, holding him tighter, and fucked forward into his fist, Newt picking up more and more of the sensation as Hermann rolled slick and easy against him. _Jesus, Herm, if I make it out of this, I don’t want you to ever stop doing what you’re doing._ An approximation of Hermann’s dry laugh carried through the drift. He tipped his head up and mouthed at the underside of Newt’s jaw.

_Newt, just come back to me. Please. I know you can fight them, because you’ve been doing it all along. Don’t let them love you more than I love you._

Newt’s vision suddenly became clear and the air in his lungs felt light, easy. He felt the phantom pain of Hermann’s bad hip, at once overwhelming and then easing off in a wave of dopamine and endorphins. The rosy bloom of oxytocin spread through Newt’s veins. Hermann was gasping against his chest.

_I’m riding Hermann’s orgasm right now. Fuckin’ neat._

Newt’s head burst into angry static and it felt like something _Precursors_ was ripping through the meningeal layers surrounding his brain. He felt rather than heard Hermann, a mantra of _Newt, I’m right here_ reverberating around his head. Hermann’s voice funneled down into a spiral rush of pleasure _like drifting_ that Newt felt with his whole body, an overwhelmingly primal and loving sensation that seemed strangely out of place in a body that for so long had been tainted by a foreign entity. The warmth blossomed out, reactivating numbed nerves, spreading down into his toes and up into his face, his eyes gathering tears.

“They can’t have me Hermann,” he gasped, like resurfacing for air after being underwater for far too long. His arms clung to Hermann’s body, afraid to let go and lose his connection to life, to sanity. His heart pounded consistently, evenly, only one rhythm for now instead of thousands. He tasted blood, hot and metallic and _human_ and he sobbed, cradling Hermann’s head against his chest.

Hermann’s fingers dug tight into Newt’s back. “Of course they can’t have you Newt, I’ve already got you.”

They lay on the lab floor until Newt’s cries subsided. Hermann thought absentmindedly that anyone could walk in on them like this, and it carried across the drift, Newt holding him tighter in response.

“Don’t let t-them take me back,” Newt whispered. “Please.”

_They’ll come back Hermann. We’re just prolonging the inevitable right now._

_I know. We’ll deal with it as it comes._


End file.
